


Is Hate A Strong Word?

by Cherub_Heart



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, He's lived a very unhappy life so far so I don't really blame him, Hurt/Comfort, I'm recovering from L'manberg boom, It's ok though, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Other, Phil's doing his best, This is very much focused only on Tommy and Phil, Tommy has a mean inner voice that likes hurting him sorry, Tommy may have run away before, Tommy needs multiple hugs, Tommy passes out haha, Tommy-centric, bad childhood memories, not for the reason you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherub_Heart/pseuds/Cherub_Heart
Summary: Tommy's been in the foster program for nearly his entire life, and in every house, he's inevitably removed. It's routine at this point.This new house though, with a single father and his two teenage boys, is strangely different from all his previous homes.Especially when he finds himself crying in the arms of someone he most certainly thought was going to kick him out at the end of the day.---
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 18
Kudos: 948





	Is Hate A Strong Word?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)  
> I've never posted on Ao3 before so please be patient haha  
> I'm very new to posting my work and would greatly appreciate any kind feedback on this fic :)  
> I hope y'all enjoy :D
> 
> also woooo over 3,000 words!!

Tommy disliked many things.

He disliked the offhand comments other students would say about his volume or vulgarity.

He disliked how his teachers called him out on every problem he didn't understand on the board, even when he said he didn't get it in the calmest voice he could muster _(He's getting better! Phil would be proud that he didn't start with yelling)_.

He disliked how a complete stranger would tug on his pack a little too hard in the halls, disappearing into the crowd as he nearly falls.

He disliked how Wilbur never matched his gaze, ignoring him like the plague, in and out of school. He resented the way he could easily string words together to get out of just about any trouble he'd gotten into with their "dad" or with the "law" _(really just school faculty, but it's all the same in the long run, he's never going to really escape it)._

He disliked how Techno stared at him with such a dull expression, making him completely unpredictable with his next move, whether it be hit him _(he'd never, he'd never hit Tommy, he'd hate himself if he ever did)_ or leave him. He hated the fact Techno was every teacher's favorite, he set an impossibly difficult expectation to reach, even if Tommy never cared about expectations.

He dislikes how his "brothers" _(Temporary, Tommy, temporary. Once Phil is tired of your shit you won't have to call them that)_ avoid and ignore him in school, although, he's a little glad they do. Fewer people seeing them interact will make leaving so much easier.

He dislikes how Tubbo's been getting quieter during class, avoiding the eyes of a group of bullies _(assholes, as Tommy puts it)_ with who they share the period. He dislikes how Tubbo's taken to wearing long sleeves to hide the bruises he's been getting once school ends.

He dislikes how those ~~assholes~~ bullies pushed him against the bumpy concrete wall, how he was already fucked because he's surrounded by four other people ready to "knock some sense into him" as they so tastefully put it.

He disliked how said assholes get his black hoodie dirty, even the slightest stain of dust on his sleeves upsetting him more than it should _(Maybe it's because Wilbur liked the design of it, the yellow dye standing out at the cuffs and strings and hood. Tommy'll always remember the seemingly offhand comment about how it would look nice on him as he continued to browse the sweaters)._

He liked how he'd managed to get a few hits in himself. Two left clutching their faces, one with blood pouring from his nose and another pressing a hand against his reddening eye.

He liked how strong he felt with adrenaline running it's high and his heart pumping _(Out of fear or excitement? He couldn't decide)._

He disliked how the high wrung itself from his bones, leaving him exhausted and in pain.

He disliked how his fist bruised an ugly red and how it hurt his jaw just trying to move it.

He disliked the way his body felt like static. Numbingly, tiredly, static.

But out of all those, he _hated_ the way blood pooled in his mouth, the dull iron dressing his tongue and spit in a dark red color.

He _hated_ how the blood kept dripping from his nose and a busted lip, how it beaded on his knuckles and cheek.

He _hated_ how, when he raised a hand to the back of his head where it knocked against the wall, it came back splotched with red.

He slid to the floor, exhaustion overtaking his legs, a ragged sob catching in his throat. _Why was he crying? He's got no reason to cry._ Something stings the back of his eyes, dull thumping echoes in his ears as his vision blurs. He rubs his eyes raw as the tears start falling, shoulders shaking as a sob rips itself from him.

_Stupid. This is stupid. Stop crying. God, this is so pathetic, nothing's happened. Get a fucking grip dude._

He doesn't hear as someone shuffles towards him, another hoarse cry escaping him as he buries his face into his trembling hands, trying to calm down.

He doesn't hear the gentle, albeit uncertain voice of Wilbur, trying to coax him up.

He doesn't hear when Wilbur crouches next to him.

He does feel a hesitant hand fall on his shoulder, snapping his head up to look directly into concerned brown eyes. He watches as they widen at his bloody face and knuckles. A sharp sting of pride aims directly for his chest; it hits its mark.

_Why the hell would he care? He hates you just like the rest of the damn school. Avoids you like a fucking disease, why would he care?_

The thoughts catch his attention, so he hardens his expression. He ignores that he's broken down over nothing. He ignores the tears still falling from his eyes. He ignores the way his body aches when he stands up. He ignores Wilbur's attempts at grabbing him; his attempts to talk to him. He ignores the way Wilbur stands solemnly in place. He ignores the burning expression he has.

Tommy's gotten very good at ignoring what he dislikes.

\---

He ~~limps~~ stalks his way back "home", the aching mile distance seeming farther and farther the more steps he takes. Maybe he should've talked to Wilbur, at least to have gotten a ride back _(he'll never admit to needing his help, not as long as Tommy is named Tommy)._ He pats his backpack for his phone, taking it out of the front-most pocket. He hid it there so it wouldn't get beat up in the fight, but that didn't save it from a cracked screen when he was practically thrown against a wall.

The screen flashed the time _(4:37, nearly dinner)_ and he barely had time to see the 7 calls he's missed from Phil and the 2 from Wilbur and 4 from Tubbo in the past hour _(of course Techno wouldn't call him, what else would he expect? Why is he disappointed anyways?)_ before buzzing, a caller ID flashing expectantly at him.

_Phil is calling…_

Tommy contemplates the two outcomes, one: he picks up and Phils saying how his stuff is already packed and how Wilbur told him about his breakdown and fight, or two: he ignores it and continues "home" to pack his stuff on his own accord once Phil tells him how problematic fostering him has been and how he's going back into the system. Both outcomes twist his stomach uncomfortably, but if he's going to be kicked out, he's going to pack his stuff his way _(Maybe take a souvenir? Maybe one of the little grey heart decorations out in the main hall, those looked pretty cool)._

He shoves the phone into his pocket.

\---

He's got the house key in his hand as he hobbles up the patio stairs, about to unlock the door to run upstairs...

...only for Phil to swing it open, eyebrows knit with worry as he stares at Tommy, moving a little red box he hadn't noticed into his other hand as he coaxes Tommy inside.

Three things caught Tommy's attention.

One, the house is quieter than normal. Typically, Wilbur's guitar or Techno's laptop or even a T.V. set a soft ambiance, but the usual background noise was absent. Tommy didn't like it, the quiet felt like a looming threat waiting to strike.

Two, Phil wasn't holding a bag with his few belongings thrown in, he was holding a first-aid kit. Out of all the homes he's been in, only one other bothered trying to patch him up after a fight. Tommy may not remember much of that house, but the tired, empty eyes of his foster parent as they silently bandaged his hands bore into his mind and would remain there for the rest of his life, even if nothing else about them did. He doesn't like that memory, even if it was the only actual pleasant interaction he had with all his previous foster homes.

Three, Phil didn't look mad. He looked more concerned than anything as he examined the dry blood under Tommy's nose and lip, then the bruise forming on his cheek and the tear stains that trailed down, then to his bloody knuckles. Tommy didn't budge from his spot in front of the door like he planned and only moved to follow Phil after he asked him to, still as kind as ever. Tommy was expecting anger, a loud voice telling him off for getting into a fight, or at least for ignoring Wilbur. He certainly didn't expect the concern and care he was getting. He didn't like how kind Phil was treating him after everything, it's undeserved and it sets off a weird ache in his chest.

Phil sits Tommy down on the toilet lid before opening up the kit, pulling out alcohol swabs and band-aids of various sizes and shapes. He doesn't look up when he talks to Tommy.

"Did you hit your head?"

"Yeah, not but not super hard. It bled a bit though."

"Mmm, can I check it?" He motions with a swab for Tommy to turn his head. "I just want to clean it up a bit, make sure it's nothing too bad."

Tommy hums, stalling a few seconds before turning his head to the side, wincing from the way his jaw glides against his shoulder. Tommy ignores the way Phil's face scrunches up with sympathy _(He doesn't deserve it, he doesn't want sympathy)._

After an agonizing half-hour crawls by, Tommy finds himself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming mug of hot chocolate clouding his vision and warming his skin. Phil stands across from him, a surprisingly relaxed expression on his face as he holds his mug, eyes shut. The silence was suffocating Tommy, the only thing keeping him grounded being the steam on his face and the way the bandages on his hands held his bruising knuckles tightly.

Tommy was about to open his mouth to say anything, anything as long as there wasn't any more silence, but Phil beat him to it as he finally looks up.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, not yet at least. I'm not going to force you to, but I hope you know I'd like to know at some point. Wilbur texted me that it looked like you'd gotten into a fight, and that's all I know."

He takes a sip from his mug. Tommy copies, albeit hesitantly, as he waits for Phil to explain how he wants him out, how he's been causing too many problems for his quiet little family. The dull warmth of it blooming in his chest, chipping away at some of the anxiety that's been unknowingly boiling in his gut.

"Listen, Tommy, I-... I'm not mad at you, I'm not going to kick you out. I'm glad that you came home and weren't hurt too badly." He takes a breath, his eyes crease with empathy. "I'm not going to force you to do anything, Tommy, but I do want you to know that you can always talk to me if there's something wrong. I don't want you to feel like an outcast here, you'll always be able to pull me aside and tell me if something's bothering you. No matter how petty you may think it is, I'll always listen."

Another ache coils in Tommy's chest at Phil's words and he can't hide the way his face twists because of it. He can't stop the way his inhale came in choppy, the way his vision starts clouding.

He doesn't like the sting the tears give him as they start falling.

He doesn't like how that little mean voice in his head keeps yelling at him for crying over nothing, words that should mean nothing to him. He rubs at his eyes harshly with his wrist.

He doesn't notice how Phil walks around the counter to stand beside him, placing a comforting hand against his back, gently rubbing in small circular motions. Surprisingly, Tommy doesn't flinch away from the contact, only turning to look at Phil. His eyes were already red and puffy, his face scrunched as he tried to stop himself from what could be another breakdown. Phil could feel his heart breaking all over again at the sight and nearly pulled Tommy into a hug. Instead, he opened his arms slightly, offering one instead of forcing Tommy into any more physical contact he may not want.

Tommy stared for a moment as he watched Phil's movements, finally registering after a moment that he was offering a hug. Despite all the shit he's put the poor man through in the past couple of weeks, he still had it in his heart to offer comfort to Tommy. _(He'll never admit how much that single offer solidified an accidental connection between Phil and Father.)_

Tommy was always a man of hesitance when it came to touching, but once that final thought processed, he's never thrown himself into someone's arms so fast. He's never held onto someone so tightly, and for the first time in a long time, afraid that if he let go, he wouldn't be able to get back. Phil held him just as tight as Tommy gripped the back of his shirt. Just the sensation of Phil enveloping him such a warm hold choked a sob from Tommy. Soon enough he found that he didn't care about crying in front of Phil as much as he thought he would.

Tommy hated the way he clung to Phil. _(This is pathetic, you're pathetic for thinking he has it in him to handle you.)_

No, that's not right.

Tommy hated the way he stained Phil's shirt with tears. He hated how he wrinkled Phil's shirt with how tightly he clung to them so Phil couldn't leave him. He hated how he was acting, he hated how Phil... There wasn't anything to hate about Phil.

Phil, who's been nothing but calm and understanding and patient.

Phil, who's currently holding him in such a tender way as he sobs and cries his throat raw, holding Tommy up as his legs shake.

Phil, who's whispering various forms of praise and comfort to Tommy who, to be honest, doesn't hear any of it but appreciates it anyway.

\---

They don't know how long they stay like that, just holding one another as though if they pulled away even a smidge, everything they've done would shatter. At some point, they ended up sliding to the floor as Tommy's legs weren't keen on supporting him for very long. Tommy was still sniffling when they finally pulled apart, looking younger than Phil's ever seen. All Phil sees is a tired, beaten down by the world kid, who's been fighting for some kind of break for longer than he should have to.

He gently places a hand against Tommy's unbruised cheek _(Who will never admit to leaning into, not for a million years will he admit to being clingy towards someone who shows him and kind of affection)_ , checking him over again before helping them both up.

Phil doesn't need to ask Tommy anything about food or rest as Tommy leans against him, eyes shut as his stomach rumbles slightly.

Phil lets out a short laugh before ensuring Tommy'll stand on his own.

"You can go lay down, I'll bring up your dinner when it's ready. Just try and get some rest, okay?"

Tommy only responds with a small hum and a nod before slowly grabbing his backpack and making his way up the stairs, so much more exhausted than he was about an hour ago.

Phil won't mention how mellow Tommy had become after crying in his arms, nor will he mention how Tommy listened to him without any quips or comments.

With the stairs out of the way, Tommy drags himself towards his room, which thankfully was the closest to the stairs, which he'd usually be opposed to.

_(Had Tommy been paying more attention to his surroundings, he would've heard the soft shuffling of feet coming from Wilbur's room down the hall.)_

He collapses into his bed the second he's close enough, not bothering to change his hoodie as he lazily grabs the closest pair of sweatpants he has to put on.

He barely hears two pairs of feet quietly stepping down the stairs past his room, hushed voices talking before silencing. The smell of food is the last thing Tommy senses before he passes out, his eyelids getting too heavy for him to keep open.

\---

Cooking dinner is typically a slow process as Phil's the only one in the kitchen, but with the help of both Wilbur and Techno _(for reasons unknown to him)_ , dinner flies by.

The two teenagers sit in their usual places at the dinner table as Phil sets their plates, bringing them over before going to set his, contemplating whether to bring Tommy's plate up yet.

After a quick thought, he fills Tommy's dish and heads up the stairs _(The idea of bringing up microwaved dinner didn't sit right with him, especially when it was just made)_. A silent conversation passes between him and his other two sons at the sight of the plate of food and with no signs of genuine annoyance or bother, he heads to the stairs.

Once he gets to Tommy's door he gives a few small knocks, noting the fact that there wasn't a response nor any other sounds. He opens the door as quietly as he can, peeking his head in.

He barely sees the form of Tommy curled on his side in his bed, breathing slowing. Phil finds himself smiling at how peaceful Tommy sleeps, such an unbelievable contrast to his usually aggressive and loud personality. As he places Tommy's food on his desk, he looks to the closet, eyes landing on the bag the teenager had when he first arrived.

It was obvious that the bag's been through a lot with Tommy, torn and holey and ever-so-slightly dirty. Phil offered to buy Tommy a new one, or at least patch up that one, but he immediately refused both offers.

Phil didn't get much out of Tommy after that little interaction.

He didn't mind obviously, Tommy had just arrived after running away from his last house. The poor kid just couldn't last more than a few months in each foster home he entered. He'd been listed as "problematic" and had a record of how many fights he got into with his previous houses. Those details wouldn't deter Phil from taking Tommy in, welcoming him with open arms and mind, hoping to provide as best he can.

He'll do everything in his power to make Tommy's life better, he'd sworn to that promise the second he saw just how nervous Tommy got when he set a plate down just a bit harder than usual _(He refuses to think about the time he called for Techno and Wilbur to come downstairs and Tommy instinctively brought an arm to cover his face at because he shouted)._

The blond snaps himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, slowly moving towards the bed. Tommy was already beginning to stir awake, stifling a yawn, as he stared at Phil, dawning an unreadable expression. Phil only tilts his head a bit towards the plate.

"Sorry I came in, I wanted to bring in your dinner." He gives a small smile before continuing, "I'll leave you to eat."

He won't tell anyone how his heart broke all over again when a flash of disappointment flashed across Tommy's face at his announcement.

He also won't tell anyone that he took the subtle hint that Tommy didn't want him to leave.

He won't mention how he stayed after Tommy finished eating, the teenager resting against his shoulder to fall back asleep, for a little while at least. _(He knows how much Tommy values his privacy, and even if it's the exhaustion leading Tommy's actions, he won't mention all the subtle movements the teenager makes to rest against Phil.)_

Tommy may have disliked many things, like the way people looked at him or how he was listed in his papers.

So what if he disliked the secrecy his foster agent had when she'd talked to Phil? Or how he disliked the way Wilbur and Techno seemed put off by him being in their house as if they weren't in the same position as him at some point in the past?

But Tommy knew one thing clearly. So unbelievably clearly that if he dared look dead-on into the truth he might blind himself.

He didn't hate Phil. He couldn't.

Maybe he'd inevitably get annoyed at the man, but he could never bring himself to truly hate him like all his previous foster parents. He couldn't bring himself to hate this family. Maybe that's why his heart weighs down with the idea that one day, one day they'll all get sick of him, and then he'll be out on the streets again, hopping house to house to house.

Maybe that not-so-irrational fear stems from all his hate and dislike for others.

_(Even if Phil offered to listen, Tommy couldn't bring himself to tell his issues to him. It's too much weight, even for Tommy, and Tommy, after reiterating it so many times himself, is strong.)_

But for now, Tommy could ignore that venomous voice hissing in the back of his brain. He was too preoccupied with how Phil stayed with him in his room, not leaving him until he was sure Tommy was okay. Phil skipped out on eating dinner with everyone else because he was too busy ensuring Tommy was fine, that his jaw wasn't in so much pain to the point he couldn't eat, that if he started crying he'd have Phil to cry on again. 

Phil put so much focus on Tommy in those moments, he felt as though he'd died somehow and this was an apology for the shitty life he's had. 

He didn't like this apology all that much, too many factors in his opinion.

He may not have liked Wilbur or Techno _(Maybe he wouldn't mind being brothers with them. Maybe if he didn't constantly start fights with them when he felt like he wasn't getting his fair share of attention),_ but they weren't... bad. Tommy could definitely imagine himself hanging out with the two having actual fun instead of fights. 

Maybe it's the oxytocin _(he learned that word in his psychology class! Phil would be proud that he paid attention)_ he's getting from being pressed against Phil, but he could imagine himself setting into this family if he stopped ruining every chance at a positive relationship he got with the two other teens.

One step at a time.

He couldn't hate Phil.


End file.
